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Chapter Twenty-Nine

T his week has been grueling, to say the least. It’s the final stretch before Thanksgiving break and my professors have really been cracking the whips.

I’ve fallen behind in two classes, and more times than I’d like to admit, I’ve seriously considered dropping them.

But then I straighten my damn crown, remind myself who the hell I am, and I keep going.

It’s Friday now, which means it's the away game against Westgate. To say my heart’s been lodged in my throat since I woke up would be an understatement.

Last night, Brogan cornered me, and we had a full hour long talk where she poked and prodded, trying to get the truth out of me.

She asked all the questions I had no good answers for, so I lied and told her I didn’t know much.

That I’d been kept in the dark, and honestly preferred it that way.

It killed me to do it, especially with everything she’s already had to carry, but it’s for her own good.

The less she knows, the safer she stays.

Just when I thought we’d wrapped things up with a neat little bow, she hit me with another question I didn’t expect.

When am I returning to the dorm?

The benefit is over and there's technically no reason for me to still be holed up in the hockey house like a stray cat they took in. So, I told her I feel safe there right now, which isn't really a lie at all.

She didn’t argue, but I could tell she wasn’t sold. Her eyes narrowed, and she said she hoped I knew what I was doing. But the truth is, I don't. I feel like I'm just biding time lately.

"We're heading out," Sebastian says, poking his head into Callan's room. "You all set?"

I nod and force a smile, even though every fiber of me wants to scream don’t go . I hate that Sebastian—or any of the guys for that matter—are even playing in this game. But they made a good point when they said suspicions would be raised if they suddenly forfeited for no reason.

Sebastian crosses the room to me and checks the mic clipped under my shirt, then adjusts the charm on my necklace where the pinhole camera is hidden.

I still have no idea how they got their hands on this gear, but at this point, I’ve stopped asking questions.

I just go with it and trust the process.

"Everything’s going to be fine," Sebastian says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Try not to worry too much. Klein is on standby as planned and if anything goes awry, he'll be there."

I nod, even though the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen.

Aidric had a meeting with Klein earlier this week and he told him just enough to get him on board. Now the detective’s on standby with his badge off and his ego barely restrained. Aidric wasn’t thrilled about involving him, but even he had to admit, we need every advantage we can get.

Sebastian lingers a second longer, his eyes scanning mine like he wants to say more but can’t find the words. Then he finally says, "It’s just one night. We’ll play, crash at the hotel, and be back tomorrow afternoon. If anything changes, I’ll text you the second it happens."

"You better," I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.

His hand finds mine, fingers lacing tightly. "I don’t like leaving you here like this."

"I’ll be okay," I lie, forcing a smile. "Drake will be on me like a second shadow, and the plan is solid. Just go win your game."

He gives a reluctant nod, then gently lets go of my hand. "Be safe, Little Lamb. And call me if anything feels off."

"I will."

With one last look, he turns and walks down the hall. I watch him until he vanishes around the corner.

I stand there for a moment then finally suck in a deep breath and step out of Callan’s room.

The silence hits me like a wall. The house feels gutted without the guys. Drake is around somewhere, ready to tail me wherever I go. It’s a little unnerving, but at least I know I’m not alone.

As I step outside, I pull my hoodie around me tighter. The air is frigid, the kind that stings your cheeks and pricks your nostrils.

After a fifteen-minute drive, I make it to campus, park my car in the lot closest to the library, and pretend I’m just another stressed-out student.

Across the street, I spot an unmarked, black van sitting idling behind a row of student cars. Drake’s behind the wheel with a couple freshmen. I can’t see them, but I know they’re in there, watching me like hawks, ready to pounce the second anything feels off.

I dare that fucker stalking us to strike. In fact, I sort of want him to because I’m done hiding. Whoever’s behind all this has stolen our peace, our safety, and now a goddamn life. I hope he’s tempted because I’m ready to fucking play.

My phone buzzes in my hand and I glance down at the screen.

B: Callan asked if you could come by. He said he wants to see you.

My heart kicks.

Me: Now?

B: Whenever. He’s having a really good day because he just found out he'll be going home very soon.

I don’t hesitate. My fingers fly across the screen.

Me: On my way.

My gaze lifts to the van, knowing they’ll follow. I shoot off a quick group text to the guys still in town:

Me: Heading to see Callan. Don’t worry, Drake's watching.

I tuck the phone back in my hoodie pocket and start walking. The leaves crunch beneath my boots as I head toward the parking lot to my car.

So much for trying to catch up on schoolwork today. I'm not going to sweat it, though. Seeing Callan is far more important.